Practical Love - 1. Practical Love

I stood an arm's length from him, scrutinising his calm countenance – from his hazel eyes that pierced through a pair of chic black frames; to his chiselled cheeks that was still coated with a thin layer of youthful blush even at the age of twenty five. I was searching for a tinge of dismay or melancholy within it, but all I found was composure with perhaps a slight hint of resignation.

“Sam...” I broke the silence between us.

“Hmm?” He responded, without so much taking his attention off my bow-tie and Tuxedo suit which he was attempting to make sleek.

“Sam...” I said once again, hoping for his undivided attention.

He looked up at me, who was standing barely inches above him. Though I was only a few inches taller - six foot three while he was five foot nine, my built torso from years of sport, contrasted with his lean body, made me appear twice his size

“I...” There was so much emotions pent up in me that I wished to express to him, but the inability to articulate them stifled me.

He placed his index finger on my lips to silence me. “It will be alright; we've been through this.” Even after years of separation, he was still able to read my mind without fault. Though I was starting to doubt if I was still able to read his. He gave me a slight nod with a faint smile, which helped me muster the necessary courage to leave the dressing room and enter the aisle.

I was getting married to Beth, my high school sweetheart. But few to none actually knew that the one person I truly wanted to get married to was the person standing right next to me – my best friend, my best man, my lover, and my one and only brother.

* * *

“He's not stupid!” Sam said, bursting into the our elementary school's principal office.

The principal was having a discussion with our dad and me on the option of having me transferred to a school more suited to 'cater' to my needs. I had barely completed a year of school when it was within consensus of my teachers that I lacked in cognitive ability.

“He just sees things differently, why can't anybody else see that?” Sam gazed assertively into our astounded faces.

“Mom and I will tutor him, we've figured out a way. Please give him one more chance – one more year.” Our parents had separated. But for the sake of our upbringing, they had decided to simply have separate lives and sleep in separate rooms but maintained the responsibility of bringing us up together. Mom was an esteemed and revered academic in the field of neuroscience while Dad was simply a factory worker drowned in his disappointment of not making into professional hockey. If intelligence was a partly inherited trait, then Sam inherited all of Mom's while I none.

And so that was the day when my genius brother saved me from potentially being labelled with 'learning disability' for the rest of my life. He was but six years old, only one year younger than I.

For the rest of the summer that year, Sam and Mom spent countless days experimenting with learning techniques on me. They finally figured out that I was more abstract than literal; more artistic than logical. And with that, they helped me see mathematics and science through the eyes of art, and with more continuous tutoring throughout the years, I was able to survive through those subjects in school; at least until Grade 10 when I was allowed to pick and study the subjects I excelled in.

* * *

Technically, we had been mentally preparing ourselves for that wedding day for years now – we knew that what we shared could not be presented to the world. 14 years of imprisonment was the punishment that the law would have for us, and that was the law of a supposedly liberal country, Canada – just to put things into perspective.

Our dad had tried to separate us when I first entered high school due to his observation of our intimacy. He had the perfect timing as Sam was a year behind me and hence was at a different middle school. He took the golden opportunity to get me into hockey, to package me as a 'jock', and to assimilate me amongst his hockey buddies' sons; and had tried his very best to keep the both of us apart while we were not in school.

When Sam entered high school, we realised that we belonged to two totally different social groups. Dad's plan succeeded. We might as well have been strangers by the time we both reached Grade 11.

* * *

“Hey! That's enough guys.” I shouted to a group of three lads cornering Sam to the lockers. I mustered every scintilla of restrain I had in me to not knock the living daylights out of them – and I swear I could have if I wanted to; years of hockey, swimming and martial arts had given me the necessary feats.

The three bullies were part of my hockey team. They were renowned for bullying to the extent that a third of the content of their conversation would be on potential bully-targets – the other two thirds were split between hockey and girls. And nobody would have been a better bully-target than the petite and lanky academic genius who skipped the year of Grade 10 and ended up in Grade 11 while a year younger than the rest of us.

The three left at my request, leaving Sam packing back his scattered books which were thrown all over the floor by the thugs. He did so with composure that no other bully victim could have displayed. That was how Sam was though – calm and composed even in the face of the greatest catastrophe.

I walked up to him with frustration. “I don't understand why do you always have to put yourself in the centre of attention like that? Why did you go pull such a stunt of skipping grades when you knew it was a social suicide?” I said irritated, while helping him pick up his scattered books.

Upon those words, he looked directly into my pale blue eyes. I was held transfixed by his gaze. I felt that I had hurt him more than any other bully had throughout his entire school life. He then walked away, and I felt that I had lost him, more than I ever had.

It was only much later that I discovered that he worked to skip a grade just so he could be in the same grade as I, hoping to bridge the chasm that was between us.

* * *

Arguably, throughout those tough years back in school, Sam had held his arms open to me, and was simply patiently waiting for me to return, while I had held my arms closed. I was never as brave as him – I did not have the courage to turn against my friends, my family, and society at large. I guess one could also infer that I did not love him as much as he did me – but I would vehemently deny that. Though if I did love him as much as I claim I do, why was I there on the aisle, about to marry a person other than him.

Sam had told me on the first night we consummated that the love that what we shared was 'impractical'. I suppose he knew long before I did that I would be there on the aisle one day, giving up our impractical love for something more pragmatic.

* * *

“Sam?” I said as I staggered, half-drunk, into his room in the middle of the night.

“Shawn?” he said as he lifted himself to sit on the bed. He was clearly wide awake when I had walked in.

It was my senior prom night, a few months before I graduated. I plonked myself down right beside him. I looked into him, wondering if there was still room for conversation after years of silence.

“I thought you were...” He sensed that I needed him to initiate the conversation. He had heard from the grapevines of school that I would be having sex with Beth that night after prom. We had dated for four years and had become our school's famous sweethearts – and hence our love life was part of the school's daily gossip.

It was not really that difficult resisting the sexual urges for the past four years with Beth. Even though Sam had not occupied my social life throughout those years, he sure did occupy my mind and fantasies. I would steal glances at him whenever I could – when he was changing, or when he was in any kind of sexually suggestive positions. Thinking about his smooth lanky torso never failed to send me into ecstasy. I had tried to divert my attention by indulging in all kinds of porn – both males and females – but none could even compare to just fantasizing about Sam's torso rubbing against mine.

I had used the excuse that I wanted our first time to be special on Beth, and she, along with the rest of the school, not only bought it, but framed it to be one of the most romantic gestures I've made. Though I knew that my pretence could only last so long, and sooner or later I had to 'seal the deal' before sending the message that there was trouble in paradise. And so prom would have been the night.

Except that “I couldn't do it.” I said solemnly. That was when I noticed his red swollen eyes. He had been crying. 'Was he crying because he thought I was out there shagging someone other than him? Did he still care about me the same way I still care about him?' I thought. And that gave me the courage to just pour out the contents of my heart that I kept locked for so many years.

“I couldn't do it knowing that my first time would not have been shared with you,” I gulped as I ran my fingers along his cheeks, feeling the dried tears that stained it.

“I know I don't deserve you, and I acted like a complete jerk, and I have no rights to come in here and...” before I could complete my sentence, I felt his finger on my lips. I could see it in his eyes – that he didn't need my words to understand how I felt. And at that moment I felt our minds connecting once again, back to the times when we could communicate without words. At that moment, we knew that he loved me and I loved him.

And then we both saw it in each others' eyes. Synchronously, our faces inched closer and closer together. And soon enough, we felt our lips pressed against each other. We held each others' lips for awhile, exchanging a slow and gentle kiss. Then tongues came into action, exploring every nook and cranny of our mouths the same time as we started to peel each others' clothings off.

He laid above me, with his tongue exploring my neck, built pectorals and defined abs. I was squirming and moaning under him, with pre-cum leaking through my briefs – the only piece of cotton left between us. We continued to lock tongues while he rubbed his hard dick against mine through the soft fabric of our briefs.

“Sam, you're going to make me cream my briefs,” I murmured in between ecstatic moans and wails.

“Me too,” he whispered into my ears.

I made a final thrust up against him, and felt gallons of warm liquid filling my briefs.

“Uhh... Uhhh... Uhhhh...” He moaned almost right after; his grip on me tighten as he too had orgasmed in his briefs.

We did not move or speak for awhile after. We were basking in the afterglow while recovering from panting breathes.

“Wow,” I finally uttered, breaking the silence. He gave a light chuckle.

We moved around until we found a comfortable position we could both relax in. He lied on his back while my body, almost twice the size of his, sprawled and tangled around him, with my nose nuzzled in his neck. And that would almost always be the position we would end up in after sex for the many years after.

With my physical build and all other relevant traits, I was his physical rock. But he was my emotional rock. And as I laid there comfortably in his arms as he ran his fingers through my hair and torso, I felt safe and secured from the world.

“What happens now?” I asked.

“At present, the world will never be able to understand our love,” he said. “You'd have to choose between expressing your love for me and the rest of the world – your friends, family, and everybody else you meet in the future.” He felt me cringe and tighten my hold on him as he uttered those words.

“Shawn, what we have is impractical. I don't want you to give up everything else just to be able to declare your love for me. We can love each other silently behind the world. We can be practical,” he said.

“Who knows Shawn, maybe one day we'd even be able to fall in love with other people...”

“Never!” I said, cutting him off as I tighten my wrap around his body, just enough not to hurt him.

Words stopped to flow after that, and we fell asleep peacefully in each others' embrace, like we used to when we were younger, with the biggest grins sprawled across our faces while asleep.

* * *

'Be practical' – those two words would be the cause of much more pain to ensue after our graduation. Under the excuse of trying to produce a more a conducive environment for the both of us to move on, Sam left for college in a place far far away. He didn't even bother returning for any of the holidays. He did call Mom pretty often though, and we obtained information about the other via Mom – the only other person who knew about what we shared. She had confronted me when I went into heavy depression when Sam first left for college.

Occasionally I'd get into depressive episodes thinking about what I had to give up with Sam. Though then almost immediately Sam would send me a card or a note through email that said 'Be Strong. Love, Sam'. Apparently, Mom had given him a call whenever I was in an episode knowing that I needed to hear from him and that only he had the ability to pull me out of it.

For the longest time, I had thought that he didn't love me as much as I did him. After all, he was the one who left for college, the one who never returned, the one who never wanted to have much communication with me.

It was not until I was twenty four when I discovered how wrong I was. I was the one with the conflict – the one who could not give up the world for him. All along, he was prepared to give the world up for me, and was simply quietly waiting for me. He held his arms open while I held mine closed.

* * *

“Surprise!” I beamed, flinging his dormitory door wide open only to be beyond flabbergasted by the scene before me – a man, another man other than me was straddling Sam on his bed.

Mom had told me that he was on his masters & PhD program in behavioural economics and was living in a dorm for graduate students. While I, the less academically gifted one was working in a retail store while taking part-time courses at an art college. I told Mom that I had to see him after five years of not getting a sight of him and begged her for his address. My sanity was at stake.

I managed to sneak in into his building along with the other dorm students and knocked on his door planning to surprise him. An absolutely beautiful East-Asian girl, Jane, with a poised and confident posture opened the door for me. She was Sam's room-mate and upon seeing my identification to confirm that I was his brother, had let me in and pointed to me where Sam's room was so that I could surprise him.

But little did I know that I was the one to be surprised.

“Shawn?” Sam said, with an utmost surprised expression.

My face was ash white. I could not process anything else other than the sight before me – another man straddling MY Sam. He had moved on, I thought. At least they were fully clothed; if they were naked, I would have fainted on the spot.

In a flash, I rushed out of the apartment. There was no hesitation in my pace despite the echoes of “Shawn! Shawn! Stop!” coming from behind me. With my physique, Sam never had a chance in his pursuit. He was out of range within minutes.

I meandered and lingered around the streets for that entire day. I need to just clear my head and process what I had seen. 'He moved on. Which is good, isn't it? It was what we wanted.' I had thought. I also turned my phone off after trying to ignore the multitude of phone calls that came.

'Damn it's cold,' I thought to myself as the chills of January pierced into my bones. I finally relented and decided to walk back to the room in a hostel I had rented. It was a rather cheap and shabby hostel – after all, I had thought I would be spending the night over at Sam's. It was basically a plot of land with a rental office along with the rooms encasing a parking lot. I walked up to where my room was only to see a shivering figure sitting against my door.

“Sam?” I quickened my pace as I soon as I recognised the figure. All my prior and confused thoughts were shoved to the back of my head as I witness the love of my life shivering before me.

“Shit! You're shivering!” I stated the obvious as he struggled to stand up. I quickly opened the door and ushered him in.

“Shawn. It was... it was not what you think, Ethan... Ethan is just my friend... Jane... Jane's boyfriend...” He strained to articulate while every muscle within him shiver with cold.

“Shit Sam! You're cold as ice!” I said as I tried to remove the damp and cold clothing from him.

“Where is your jacket? How did you find me here anyway?” I asked frantically, while rubbing my warm arms throughout his torso.

“Didn't... didn't have time to get jacket... Tried to... to chase you. Didn't... didn't want to leave in case you came... came back,” he said. “Mom... Mom told me where you were. Thank... thank God you kept her updated when... when you arrived.”

I pulled him into my embrace, holding him tight, hoping that my body heat would warm him up. When I found that he was still shivering in my embrace, without hesitation, I stripped all my clothes off sans my briefs and pulled him onto my bed. I wrapped ourselves under the duvet and rubbed my warm naked body against his.

With that, his shivers started to dissipate. Soon after, I felt his hard dick pressing against mine and I knew that he was okay – at least warm and comfortable enough to pop a hard on.

“Ethan and Jane are my room-mates. We have been living together for a few years now. They are dating each other in a monogamous relationship,” he explained, stressing on the word 'monogamous'. “Ethan and I just sometimes play around, like tickling each other and such. It's completely platonic.”

I planted a kiss on his forehead. “Sorry for being so stupid. I would have not been able to forgive myself if anything had happened to you. Next time remember to bring a jacket, you'd never have been able to catch up with me no matter what anyway,” I quipped which got myself a light chuckle.

“Ethan and Jane know about us by the way, I hope you don't mind,” he said. “When I first came to college, I didn't want to develop any close friendships because I knew I would not be able to keep the secret. But unlike all other acquaintances of mine, they were persistent and didn't want to distant themselves from me. I told them eventually when I felt that I could trust them. They took it very well, and we became much closer ever since.”

“Wow,” I muttered. He actually told his friends; actually faced the possibility of rejection from society. And then a thought struck my mind.

“Sam, if I was actually willing, would you have given up your friends, family and society to live a life with me?” I asked earnestly, while staring into his eyes, trying to look for an honest answer within it.

He shut his eyes almost immediately after he figured out where I was going with that question, refusing to let me see the truth within.

And when the truth hit me, it hurt. I held him tight as tears cascaded from my eyes. "I'm sorry,” was all I could mutter.

All along, he had told me to be practical. But deep inside, he was resigned to have his wasted heart love me with no intentions of moving on. He was willing to give up everything for a life with me. But he knew I wasn't. Just like how I didn't give up my high school posse for him, he knew I could not give up the world for him. And to make it easier for me, he had created the impression that he had wanted to be practical too – that he couldn't give up the world too. I was stupid and selfish to not see all the evidences in front of me. He skipped a grade for me, terminating his social life by doing so, and he told his friends at the risk of ridicule and rejection.

The revelation was overwhelming, and before I knew it, I fell into a deep slumber while nestling in Sam's embrace.

* * *

We could not resist the opportunity to have a round of amazing sex that day I visited. He made me cream in my briefs again when he slid his mouth and tongue along my hard cock through the sensual fabric of my briefs. I chuckled inside when it came to my realisation that he had a fetish for that. I on the other hand made him spray his hot cum into my ass. While he liked making me orgasm in my briefs, I liked him inside me, engulfing and squeezing his hard-on with my bubble butt. Having his slender and nimble body on top of my ripped torso while thrusting like a wild animal into me had always been my fantasy during those hormonal teenage years.

We restricted our sexual encounters though. After all, we were cheating on Beth and we didn't feel too good about it. Though by both acknowledging that our hearts solely belong to only the other, we had already done her the greatest disservice.

He basically spent the rest of that day convincing me how he never wanted me to feel a tinge of guilt with my new-found revelation. He told me it was not because he loved me more than I did him, but that we were just different – he was a person who could live comfortably in solitude, while I was a more social person who needed more social recognition and affirmation.

I promised him to not feel guilty upon one condition – that he would cease attempting to help me move on, and cease avoiding and ignoring me. It was definitely a bargain on my side as we literally called each other every night after that and never again did I slip into another depressive episode. The only one time when I had come close to an episode was when I told him that Beth and I were to get married.

* * *

I stood there at the aisle feeling lost and insecure. I wanted to just lunge towards my emotional rock and draw all the strength I could from him.

I had been with Beth for 12 years now, but this was different – this was marriage. As I looked into Beth's eyes right before me on the altar, I felt the commitment that I would have to be putting into this. It was a commitment to be practical – a wife, kids, a job, acceptance by friends, family and community. It was a commitment to give up love for practicality.

When I looked at the rows of guests who were about to witness our commitment, I felt the judgement. These are the people who were responsible for Sam and me being apart. Society came together and established a set of self-righteous yet subjective code of morality. And those who do not share that same code of morality, like Sam and me, would be ostracised and doomed to misery.

When the priest started the ceremony by citing our wedding vows, I felt the illusion. The illusion of life – or rather what we, as society wanted to believe life to be. We wanted to believe that we had it figured out. That we figured out an appropriate and proper way of life that would make everybody happy. And we dictated this way of life to the people around us – you should be financially successful, you should find a person to marry, find a person to love, but this person has to be from the opposite sex, has to be around your age, etc. etc. along with the millions of conditions we have placed as a society. And the problem laid in our stubbornness and pride. We would like to believe that we are right and that we know best, refusing to empathise with how others actually felt if how they felt contradicted our beliefs 'You cannot possibly fall in love with a person of a same-sex, you're not normal, you're mentally ill, you're perverted. You cannot possibly fall for a person twice your age, you're perverted. And you cannot possibly fall for your own brother, you're perverted.'

Well they were wrong. I fell in love for my brother. And because they have already decided on how humans best ought to live and what humans best ought to do, people like Sam and me, who do not share that position shall be the victims – the victims of society.

“Shawn?” Worried, Beth asked, staring into my eyes.

I was brought back into reality from my reverie. It was my turn to say 'I do', to give the final seal and affirmation. I felt Sam's presence behind me, and could feel the melancholy and pain emanating through that calm composure of his body.

I wanted to turn my mind off, and just utter those two words that we have prepared for throughout all these years.

But instead, I said “No!” It barely escaped my mouth. I heard rumbles across the hall and saw the sheer pain in Beth's eyes. “I'm sorry Beth,” I cried.

* * *

After the stunt I pulled in the church, Sam and I resisted the temptation to immediately flee out of town. I spent the next few weeks talking to Beth. I told her the truth about Sam and me – I owed her that much after lying for 12 whole years.

After the storm started to calm, Sam and I made plans to spend the rest of our lives together. We temporarily moved to his college so that he could finish his program which only had a year left. We then moved to a state where incestuous relationships were not punishable by imprisonment; though marriage and domestic partnership were way out of the question.

* * *

'It was a difficult life!' The old man in me would often tease, which would only earn myself a light knock on my head and a subsequent peck on the cheeks from the man that I had spent 60 years of my life with.

Though I am not going to lie, it was a difficult life. We had to keep our lives secret from our peers, colleagues and even some of our friends. But we did occasionally make good ones whom we shared our lives with – Ethan and Jane amongst the few of them. But it was the best life I could have ever asked for. The absolute best. The entire cupboard of briefs that could last me a whole month was just one of the many testimonies to that. *wink*

I love you Samuel McGuire. From the beginning until the very end, you have filled my life with happiness. You have held my hand and gave me strength as we trudged through the many obstacles in life. And even though your physical self might no longer be here with me today, your memories will keep me company until my time ends, which will be soon I feel.

I hope all the work that you have done will make it easier in future for those who share our fate. I feel that the least I could do is to share our story. I hope that perhaps it might provide some courage and inspiration to all others who share similar fate – all other victims of society.

I love you Sam McGuire.

Love,

Shawn McGuire